Angels take Sammy
by watsonswenches
Summary: The Weeping Angels take hold of Sam and bring him back in time. Will the Doctor, Dean, Sherlock, and John be able to save him?


"Sammy?"

A grown man with dim green eyes, threadbare clothes, and a long, forgotten smile cried out into the darkness, "Sammy, don't play games with me. I know you're there."

_Silence._

His heart beat faster, tears welled up in his eyes, his arms and legs ached until they finally gave in and he fell to the ground. _That's it. He's gone. Again._

Dean turned towards the man who lost his brother. Who brought them here in the first place. _The man who found them both._ He looked up at the Doctor in disgust, "Where the hell is Sam? What was that... that angel thing? Why couldn't we blink?"

The Doctor shifted nervously, his frown deepening, "They're as old as the universe, but no one truly knows where they came from." He looked away, "Loneliest beings in the world..." His voice trailed off as if he were reminiscing about something.

"Snap out of it, Doctor. What else? Where's Sam?"

"I told you two not to blink... I told you, but you didn't listen." His eyes flashed a bit of anger, but more pain than anything. "When you are touched by a Weeping Angel, you are sent to the past, sometimes even before you are born… They feed on your potential energy, until you grow old and you…" He didn't finish, but it was understood.

Sam was going to stay there until he died. And there was nothing they could do about it.

"Dammit." Every bone in Dean's body ached. Every fiber of his being, everything Dean lived for, was for his brother. And now he's gone. _I've failed him, once again._

Suddenly, and abruptly, the door swung open with a loud creak.

"Where's Sam?" A short, blond male, wearing a threadbare sweater and a concerned look on his face came storming in, "Where in the bloody hell is he?" His taller companion followed him, wearing a long, black trench coat and his signature blue scarf. He said nothing.

Sherlock was still getting over the fact that time travel, and space for that matter, existed. He couldn't comprehend the fact, but he still found it strangely interesting. He turned towards Dean and gave him a questioning look. _Sam is always with him. Where has he gone?_ He scanned Dean's body for any signs. He found nothing. _Impossible. All traces of Sam are gone; it's as if he wasn't here-like he completely disappeared. It's highly illogical since…_ He almost forgot about time travel, which means pretty much anything could be possible... Besides, he was getting ahead of himself.

Dean stood back up and groaned, "He's gone… He's with the Weeping Angel. It took him back in time…" He couldn't finish his sentences. It hurt too much to think about it. It hurt too much to think about anything. He felt numb. Failing Sam again was out of the question, but here he was.

"Weeping Angel? What is that?" John looked at Dean, and then eased his gaze to the Doctor. "Is that what took Sam?"

The Doctor turned toward John and Sherlock, "Yes. A single touch from the Weeping Angel sends you back in time where they feed on your potential energy until you grow old." He sighed and looked away, "I'm sorry I ever took you here… It's all my fault. All my bloody fault."

The Timelord was usually a jolly spirit, filling the room with laughter and strange, new ideas that no one had ever heard of. He even made Sherlock crack a smile on a few occasions. All he was now was a broken shell, his eyes old and wise, showing his true age.

John looked down, "Is there any way we can get him back? Go back in time? There must be something!" He raised his voice slightly. He had always liked Sam from the start, he felt like the younger boy understood him. He couldn't really place his finger on it, though. Sam and Dean had been quite a mystery to Sherlock and John. Their stories of demons and angels where very strange to them, and they found it much easier to believe in time travel than a God… and Lucifer. He shook the thought out of his mind.

The Doctor looked at John hopelessly, "We can, but who knows where in the past he is." He plopped on the ground, defeated. "He's gone. We'll never find him."

Dean's eyes flickered and he cracked a smile, "Sammy has this journal that he's been writing in for the past few years. Think we could go to the future, snatch it from him, and read where he was?"

The Doctor's eyes lit up, "Brilliant! Truly brilliant!" He shot up from the floor and pulled Dean into a tight embrace. "To the TARDIS my friends! Come along!" His frown and turned into a warm smile in a matter of seconds. There was hope.

The Doctor was the first one into the big blue box, Dean following, and John and Sherlock shortly after. After a few moments of rambling from the Doctor, and a few levers pulled, and grin, they all set out for future Sam.

"Sherlock, what in the bloody hell are you doing? Don't press those! Who knows what they do!" John raised his voice ever so slightly at the curious Consulting Detective, as he poked and prodded at the endless amount of buttons scattered around the TARDIS. "For science, John." Was all he could muster as he curiously pushed another button.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't touch that." The Doctor butted in, chuckling lightly. "I can't believe I just told Sherlock Holmes to stop pushing my buttons..." He whispered to himself, laughing like the child he was. "I apologize. I was just curious." Sherlock stepped away from the buttons and sat down, John following close by.


End file.
